


Hold On

by RosieRivendell



Category: Dredd (2012), Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: M/M, Masturbation, Omorashi, Wetting, i am so ashamed, lowkey humiliation, this is kind of sad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-09
Updated: 2016-09-09
Packaged: 2018-08-14 01:18:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 961
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7993318
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RosieRivendell/pseuds/RosieRivendell
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Techie needs to piss, badly. But if he leaves the security room, Ma-ma will slice his belly open.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hold On

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, firstly, I don't know what the hell this is. Don't look at me.  
> Secondly, this was difficult to tag, so sorry if this does not end up being what you're looking for - it doesn't fit well in either fandom, or in a particular kink category.  
> Thirdly, be warned for explicit language, smut, and low-key humiliation.
> 
> Come talk to me on [tumblr](http://rosierivendell.tumblr.com/)

‘And don’t even _think_ about leaving this room until you’ve fixed this fucking security problem, you piece of shit, or I’ll slice your fucking intestines out!’ Ma-ma shrieks, slamming the steel door with a loud _bang._

 

Techie is trembling, knowing only too well the familiar press of Ma-ma’s dagger on his belly. The Peach Trees security system had just totally malfunctioned, now held weakly by only basic backup security software. Ma-ma had lost her shit at him when she had found out, and had ordered Techie to fix it _now._ Fuck. And he really fucking needs to pee. Like really bad. This malfunction would take at least an hour to fix.

 

The room of wires and computers is small and hot, and Techie can feel the sweat pooling in his underarms, and the back of his neck. He really needs to focus on fixing this fucking thing, but he can’t concentrate, not with the press of the waistband of his shorts on his bladder. It almost hurts, holding it in, and he’s curling his toes, and clenching his thighs together. The pain is enough to drive him to distraction, and he is struggling to keep his trembling fingers on the keys.

 

He can’t leave to go to the toilet, or Ma-ma will punish him. Fuck. Fuck. What can he do? He’s going to piss himself if he doesn’t sort it out soon.

 

Maybe... Maybe… If he…

 

No one ever comes into the security tech room, except for Ma-ma, and she’s so pissed off she doesn’t want to see Techie. So when Techie unbuttons and unzips his shorts, and slips his hand down into his underwear, he knows he won’t be interrupted. If he can just get hard, and stay that way, he won’t be able to pee, and won’t piss himself.

 

It’s easier said than done, Techie is feeling anything but remotely turned on at the moment. But he persists, his hand firmly tugging on his soft cock. He tries to take his mind elsewhere, anything to help him get aroused.

 

He thinks about the nice technician that sometimes does manual tech stuff at Peach Trees, tall and muscly with a shock of curly yellow hair and big ugly glasses. Last time he came to Peach Trees to service one of the generators, he had undone his jumpsuit and pulled it down to his waist, tying the sleeves low around his slim hips. Techie remembers trying not to stare at those broad shoulders and narrow waist, sheening slightly with sweat, and shoulder muscles rippling as he tried to undo a particularly stubborn screw. The technician had noticed Techie staring, and smiled. Techie had blushed furiously, and looked away as quickly as he could, but the other man had come over once the service had been finished, and told Techie he had nice eyes. No one had ever told Techie he had nice eyes before. Especially not in such a deep, sensual voice.

 

The memory of the tall technician and his kind words has Techie starting to get hard, especially once he pushes his shorts and underwear further down so he can touch his balls. Oh fuck. He needs to stop, or he’ll come and then he’ll probably piss all over himself anyway. He stops the movement of his fist, keeping it in place so that he stays hard, and removes his hand from his balls.  

 

He tries to turn his mind back to the security system, and manages to punch out a few lines of code, although it would be quicker with both hands. His cock twitches in his loose grasp. The thoughts of the shirtless technician have averted Techie’s mind and he can’t help thinking about how his taut, sweaty chest would feel under his hand, or how good it would feel if he crowded Techie against the console desk, thick lips sucking on his throat, and ran his big hands down Techie’s sides, between his legs and…

 

Fuck. Techie tries not to thrust up into his hand at his thoughts. Oh god, he’s so fucking close. But then he thinks about if it was a big strong hand wrapped around his cock, and not his own small pale hand, and he starts desperately pumping his cock, oh god, oh _FUCK!_

 

He tries to pull his hand away, but it’s too late. He doubles over and comes with a cry, semen spurting up onto his old yellow shirt and onto his cargo shorts. He can’t hold on anymore, he just can’t, and once the last of his ejaculate bubbles from his cock, piss starts to slowly stream out of his now soft, slimy cock. He doesn’t even try to grasp the tip to stop the flow. He sobs as it streams down his legs, dripping onto the floor underneath him. God it feels good to let go, but the shame is overwhelming, and Techie tries not to let tears prickle at the corner of his eyes.

 

Techie tries to pull himself together, despite the humiliation, the uncomfortable cooling of piss in his lap, and the acidic smell. Now he’s stopped the pain in his bladder, he needs to get to the work at hand and fix this damn security system, or Ma-ma will slice his belly open. He can clean up the floor afterwards. He wipes his hand on his already filthy shorts, and starts tapping on the keyboard again.

 

The crotch of his shorts are drenched now, and there is a considerable puddle on the floor underneath him. There’s come striped up onto his shirt as well. There’s no way the tall technician would ever be interested a pathetic, disgusting mess like him.

 

A traitorous tear escapes, and he wipes it away with the too-long sleeve of his shirt.


End file.
